Thank you to everyone who has reviewed so far, I really do appreciate it. GreyKitten – although it was part of your review for Verity, thank you very much for my bunny. I shall call him Bert. I hope this chapter will go some way to explaining why Luka is so protective of Daine, and why he dislikes Numair so intensely.
Seven years ago
Despite the distance that separated them, Luka could hear the noise as clearly as if Daine stood at his side. Soft sobs muffled by a pillow, blanket or knuckles that were white with tension. It was enough to drive him out of his mind. Not because the sound grated on him or prevented him from snatching a few hours of much needed sleep, but because it was a constant reminder that he could do nothing to soothe her. Having lived on his own since he was little more than a boy, he found that he felt awkward around people and had little idea of what to say. Even if he did find some hidden wellspring of elegance, or managed to use his rough words to calm and comfort her, it wasn't his place.
His firm conviction that he was unable to offer any kind of comfort didn't prevent him from sitting up listening to her weep night after night, aching to help her. Exactly why her sorrow caused him so much pain was something of a mystery to Luka. After all, she was a slip of a girl who barely spoke and quite often couldn't support her weight on her thin, shaking legs. During their first meeting she had seemed almost feral, and she had disturbed his quiet life with two shrieking babes. But although he might grumble at her about it from time to time, it was always in jest. In all honesty, he liked that the seemingly eternal silence of his former life had been shattered, and if Daine took the babes and left it would cause him more pain than he would ever admit.
At the close of every night he would fall asleep with the words of the beautiful woman, the goddess, echoing in his mind. Hadn't she demanded that he care for her daughter, and hadn't he agreed? What would she say now if she could see him sitting here, doing nothing as Daine broke her heart in the next room? He doubted that she would see it as a fulfillment of his promise.
A new sound rose to meet Daine's quiet sobs; a low, mournful whistle that seemed to spread through the cottage, sticking to Luka and weighing him down like tar. After what felt like hours of being frozen in place, the long whistle ended to be replaced by a series of sharp, frantic clucks and whistles. Luka realised that despite Daine's best attempts to muffle the sound of her weeping, Kitten had woken and was now trying to comfort her ma in the only way she knew how. Now he didn't have a choice; he had to calm both of them before they woke Rikash and Sarralyn and the whole house started crying.
He rose and hurried to the cottage's one bedroom. Daine sat on the bare, wooden floorboards, forehead resting against the foot of the bed as she weakly tried to calm Kitten with one hand. Luka scooped Kit up and held her firmly in the crook of his arm, eliciting an outraged squawk. It was the first time he had touched the dragonet and somewhere in the back of his mind he marveled at how soft her scales were beneath his fingertips. But he had little time for wonderment. "Go an' sit with Sarralyn an' Rikash," he said in a low murmur. "Look after 'em if they wake up an' start cryin'. I'll see to Daine." Kitten gave an anxious whistle of protest, but followed her orders as soon as Luka set her back down. She loved the twins like siblings, and took her duty towards them very seriously.
Luka crouched next to Daine, who wiped her red, swollen eyes rather more viciously than was necessary. Pulling a crumpled but clean handkerchief from his back pocket, he arrested the movement of her hand and pressed the fabric into her fingers. "Thank you," she whispered, burying her face in the handkerchief as if she wanted to hide in it rather than dry her tears. "I didn't mean to wake you, I'm sorry."
"Don't be daft," he growled. "As if a little chit like you could rouse a great bear like me." Daine gave a watery laugh, and Luka's heart swelled with pride that he had managed to elicit a chuckle from her, albeit a weak one. He didn't want to risk losing that tremulous smile, but he had to if he hoped to put an end to the weeping he listened to night after night. "Why are you cryin'?" He asked gently.
As he guessed, what little happiness she had disappeared to be replaced by a heavy sigh. He expected her to shirk the question with a vague answer or to ignore him altogether, but to his surprise she said, "It's a long story, and I'm not sure where to begin."
"Mayhap you should tell me in the mornin'. You look like you're for bed." This was true enough; she had been awake since dawn the previous day, tending the babes and completing whatever small household tasks she could manage in her weakened state. Luka didn't know much about sickness and healing, but he knew that if she ever hoped to look like anything more than a sack of skin and bones she would need rest. Daine nodded her agreement and she tried to rise to her feet, using the bed as support. Luka hurried to aid her, wrapping an arm around her and deploring that he could feel her ribs so clearly through the oversized shirt she used as a nightdress.
As he lowered her carefully onto the mattress, a thin wail tore through the air. Either Sarralyn or Rikash had woken, and that meant that the other would be awake and crying within moments. Daine sighed and attempted to get back to her feet, but Luka pushed her firmly back onto the bed. At her puzzled look he said, "You rest. I'll calm the babes an' get 'em back to sleep."
She shook her head, dark curls tumbling into her pale, drawn face. "I can't ask you to do that."
"You're not askin', I'm tellin'. It won't do 'em any good havin' a ma who's too tired to stand on 'er own feet."
At any other time Luka knew she would have argued. But she was truly exhausted, and crossing the chilly room to calm two wailing babes in her current state must have seemed an almost impossible task. She nodded and thanked him weakly before collapsing onto the thin pillows, her eyes already beginning to close. Luka gently pulled the blanket from beneath her prone body and covered her with it, hoping that he hadn't left any skin exposed to the cold air. "Good night, chit," he murmured before moving away.
Now
Daine forgot all sense of modesty. Yanking the sheet from Numair's bed, she hastily wrapped it around her near naked form and ran after Luka. Numair lay where he was for a moment longer, his tired mind trying to wrap itself around what had just happened. After the revelations of the night and his reunion with Daine, the added confusion of her disappearance to follow an intruder was almost too much for him to comprehend. His frozen state didn't last more than a few seconds, and then he was out of bed yanking on his breeches to chase after her.
When he stumbled out into the corridor he found it empty but for a yawning servant carrying a jug of steaming water. Instinctively his legs took him to the rooms where Daine, Luka and the children were lodged; it seemed unlikely that Daine would go anywhere else in such a state of undress. Turning onto the hallway where they were located, he realised that his guess had been correct. Two voices were raised in argument: one feminine, alternately pleading and angry, the other male and with a Scanran accent, furious.
The door to Daine's rooms stood open and Numair hastened inside. She stood in the middle of the sitting room, trembling arms fighting to hold the sheet up. Luka was nowhere in sight, but his voice rumbled from an open doorway. "There's nothin' to think about," he growled. "I'm not stayin' an' that's that." He emerged from his room, a large pack slung over one shoulder. Numair realised that he must never have unpacked after his arrival for him to be ready so quickly.
"Why?" Daine asked, her voice soft and desperate. "I don't understand." She gripped his elbow to prevent him from reaching the door, and he glared angrily at her small hand before shrugging her off roughly, causing her to stumble and almost fall. Numair strode forwards and took hold of her bare shoulders, steadying her.
"How dare you touch her like that," his voice was low and dangerous as he glowered at Luka. Now he too was beginning to feel the first stirrings of anger. Luka had barged uninvited into his rooms and interrupted his very private reunion with Daine. She had raced after him through the palace corridors nearly naked, by all appearances desperate to soothe him, and for her troubles she had nearly been knocked over.
Luka froze and turned slowly, piercing Numair with an icy glare. He moved towards him, each step slow and deliberate. When he reached the couple, Numair ignored Daine's protests and pushed her behind him, determined that if this man wanted to fight it would be with him. At this gesture, Luka's lip peeled back in something very close to a growl. "I would never hurt 'er," he snarled, "which is more'n you can say. You could've given 'er a home, could've been a pa to the children. Instead you cast 'er away for another woman and let 'er go out into the world alone. If I hadn't found 'er she would've given birth in the forest, alone apart from the animals. She most likely would've died, an' with no one to look after 'em the babes would've followed."
Numair wanted to defend himself, to argue that he hadn't left Daine for another woman, that he hadn't stopped loving her in all the years of her absence. But although he hadn't been unfaithful, he had broken Daine's heart and it was his fault that she had left. She should have given birth in the palace, surrounded by healers and friends. She should have spent the days following Rikash and Sarralyn's arrival into the world discovering both the joys and sorrows of motherhood with the father of the children at her side, kissing away the tears when she cried and sharing in her happiness when she laughed. It was one of the rare occasions of Numair's life when he found that words failed him.
Apparently satisfied with Numair's silence, Luka turned his gaze on Daine. Now his voice lost its anger and was replaced with an intense sadness. "How many times did you lie awake cryin'? For damn near a year I listened to you weep every night, not knowin' how to help you. You wouldn't 'ave lived if your ma hadn't told you to, an' even after that you nearly starved yourself. I washed you an' fed you an' carried you when you were too weak to walk, an' I did the same for the babes when they came."
Now there were tears gathering in Daine's eyes, threatening to spill over and run down her cheeks. "Please," she begged, reaching out to him, "there's so much you don't know, so much that I've only just found out. If you'll just let me explain-"
"No," Luka interrupted. "All the years I've known you, you've been tryin' to put yourself together after 'e," he jabbed his finger roughly in Numair's direction, "broke you. I've watched – I've helped – you get stronger, an' become a whole person. I won't sit 'ere an' watch while you let 'im rip you apart again. I'm sorry, chit, I just can't."
Without another word, without even another glance at Daine or Numair, he turned and left the room, shutting the door behind him. At the sound of the door clicking shut, so firmly placing a barrier between herself and Luka, the tears that had been welling in Daine's eyes finally spilled over as she began to sob. Numair found that he didn't know what to do; he wanted to comfort her as he should have been doing for years, but he didn't know whether she would welcome it as he was the reason for Luka's abrupt departure. Then she turned to him and he found his arms opening of their own accord. She stepped into them willingly, hiding her face against his bare chest as he stroked her curls.
"I'm sorry," he whispered, unsure of whether he was apologising for Luka leaving, the things he had done or the things he hadn't.
Just as Daine began to calm, the door to what Numair presumed to be her bedroom swung open and three figures trooped out. At the sight of Numair Rikash's eyes narrowed; Sarralyn whispered for him to behave himself, reminding him that his tantrum of the previous night had made their ma cry. Kitten raised herself up on her back paws, whistling anxiously to see Daine so upset.
"What's he doing here?" Rikash demanded. "And where's Luka?"
Daine began to cry again.
Later, much later, Numair found himself being led down a drafty, stone corridor by his king. As prisoners were normally kept far away from the palace, the building only had a small dungeon where wrongdoers – or those suspected of wrongdoing – were held temporarily. That small prison was where he was being taken now, although Jon hadn't made it entirely clear why.
Daine, walking at his side, was unusually subdued. She allowed her curtain of hair to hang in front of her face, hiding her swollen eyes, the evidence of hours of weeping, from Jon. Luka had stuck to his word and disappeared, and Daine had been forced to tell the children that he had left them. Sarralyn, like her mother, had sobbed and locked herself in the bedroom with Kitten, whereas Rikash had been furious and had placed the blame for his friend's departure solely on Numair's shoulders. Before Daine had had the chance to calm her son and coax her daughter from her hiding place, they had received a summons from Jon and had been forced to leave the children in the capable hands of Onua.
"What are we doing here, Jon?" Numair asked quietly.
By way of reply, Jon removed something from his pocket and handed it to Daine. Her head jerked up and she took it quickly, almost snatching it from his hands. Numair peered over her shoulder; it was a viciously sharp looking dagger, an intricate carving of a wolf's head carved into the hilt. Where the wolf's eyes should be were two rubies that in the dim light seemed to gleam with a life of their own. "Where did you get this?" She asked, voice trembling.
"I'm assuming that you recognise it," Jon said.
She nodded. "It belongs to the Poison Fang clan in Scanra. See this?" She tapped the wolf's head lightly. "It's their sign. How did you get this?"
"Follow me," Jon said grimly. He brought them to the end of a corridor, where a uniformed guard bowed and produced a silver key, using it to unlock the large, wooden door they waited in front of. The room they entered seemed to be made entirely of slabs of cold stone, and was devoid of any ornamentation. "They found him snooping around the edge of the royal forest," Jon explained. "When they brought him here all he would say is that he will only talk to you."
"Daine?" Numair asked incredulously. "Is it really appropriate to grant such a request?"
"It's the only way he'll talk," Daine said. When he turned to look at her, he could only just make out her face in the darkness, grim but determined. "I have a history with this clan, and their leader bears me a grudge."
"He's loyal to the Great Council?" Jon asked.
Daine smiled, but it was sour. "It goes back further than that. He tried to persuade me into his bed and when I refused he tried to force me. I threatened to kill him should he try it again, and he's been seeking revenge for the humiliation ever since."
"Then it's even more inappropriate for you to speak to this prisoner!" Numair cried.
"I have to."
"Daine, no-"
Numair broke off, quelling slightly under the intensity of her gaze. She said, "I need to find out whether Ranulf's man got word to him that I'm here before he was captured. If so," she glanced in Jon's direction, "then I'm afraid I'll have to put off whatever mission you wish to send me on, your majesty. If I don't get to Ranulf quickly, then it won't just be me who's in danger, but my children and anyone who helps us."
Jon nodded. "Of course. Your safety and that of your family is paramount."
"I'm coming in with you," Numair said firmly. He knew that Daine had survived for eight years without him, had protected their children during that time, but he was finding that old habits were resurfacing and he couldn't help but be protective of her. She made no protest as he followed her into the cell that Jon opened for them, but focused her attention entirely on the prisoner. Unsurprisingly for a man who hailed from Scanra, he had a mane of blonde hair streaked with mud, presumably from his prowling of the forest.
Daine fell to her knees in front of him and slid her fingers beneath his chin, forcing him to look up at her. "What's this?" She asked softly. "A dog without his master. It's been a long time, Erik."
Erik's eyes burned with fury as he stared at her. "Your time is coming, whore," he spat. "Ranulf is greatly anticipating having your blood on his blade once again."
Numair wasn't conscious of moving towards them, fists clenched. He only became aware that he had moved when Jon gripped him by the shoulder, holding him still. "Temper," he cautioned. "He has information Daine needs." Numair nodded reluctantly and turned his attention back to Daine, who held up the dagger given to her by Jon.
"Is this yours?" She asked. "You really should be more careful with your weapons."
"Your filthy hands pollute it, just as you fouled our men when you invited them into your bed."
Daine tilted her head slightly, staring at the man as if here were some kind of interesting toy. Then her hand was moving through the air almost too quickly to see, bringing the blade up to slash through Erik's throat. There was a brief moment of struggle and then he slumped to the side, dead. Numair was vaguely aware of Jon letting out a cry of dismay. He couldn't quite believe what he had just witnessed; Daine, killing a man for nothing more than an insult? It took him only a few seconds to realise that something was wrong, and place exactly what it was. Although Daine had sliced clear through his throat, there was no blood.
"I thought you needed him, why did you kill him?" Jon demanded.
"It was a simulacrum," Numair answered before Daine could. "How did you know?"
"Erik – the real Erik – has a small amount of wild magic, mostly with dogs. When I looked there was no copper fire." She sighed and rose to her feet, dusting off her breeches. "That means that the real Erik probably knows I'm here, and if he knows then so does Ranulf."